Meeting at Iðavöllr
by Midoriko-sama
Summary: Third Edda in the 'Becoming' universe. A series of one-shots covering the occurrences that follow after The Thing and Snoggletog; gaps may span weeks, months or years. Updates will be sporadic. Rating will change for future chapters.
1. Jötunvillur

**Welcome to the third Edda. There is a ****very**** lengthy AN at the end … read it, if you dare.**

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_**Berkian Eddur - 3**_

_**Meeting at **__**Iðavöllr**_

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1. Jötunvillur

The winds howled outside, as if trying to make up for the lovely weather they'd had the week before, or even make them forget that Spring would soon chase it away. Winter was giving one last battle, the jötun clinging on with their teeth even as Thor kicked them in like icicles off the eaves.

'K …. V …. R …..G...'

Hiccup drank some of the watered mead, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing. Ætta was sitting at his foot, a writing block on her lap, holding the lead stick shakily in her hand as she traced the letters from the top row to a much squigglier bottom one. The way she bit her bottom lip was so much like Astrid's …

'Papa Hiccup," she sighed, putting the stick down and shaking her hand dramatically. Hiccup almost rolled his eyes - for someone who wasn't related to him by blood, she had certainly picked up on a lot of his mannerisms. 'May I stop for a while, papa?'

She blinked up at him, and he was already convinced. He was going to _catch_ it from Astrid.

'Only if you promise me to continue once mama Astrid comes back,' he said gently, and the little girl bounced to her feet with an elated cry and raced towards the barns. 'Ætta!' She froze, looking back at him wide-eyed. 'You haven't promised yet.'

Ætta puffed her cheeks out; ah, caught her in a scheme, hadn't he? 'I promise, papa Hiccup!' she piped, and off she went into the dragon barn, giggling to be heard a moment later as she no doubt threw herself belly-first into the little baby dragon stall. The chirps of the babies rose a second later, some more annoyed than others; the child night furies found all distraction welcome but the nadders liked their rest. Hlin had left two days ago, and the tiny night furies had been glum for a great deal of the time. Toothless was bearing it surprisingly well; Hiccup didn't know whether it was just instinct that allowed him to accept her departure in such a blazé manner, but he himself wasn't sure he could take it, if Astrid left.

He smiled to himself; not that she was going anywhere.

Hiccup grunted with satisfaction as he stretched out in his chair, a gift from his father on his name day. It was comfortable, lined with cushioning and placed right beside his father's larger one, facing the fire. His leg was extended towards the fire, his prosthetic removed so that it could continue healing, scabbing, and - hopefully - stop aching. The damn changeable weather wasn't helping much.

His name day. It had been interesting, if only because they'd tried to make it special for him and the late Winter storm had swept away all the tents and nearly all the food too. Astrid had been cursing the ice giants for the past three days, hissing at the thunder when she thought now one was looking and telling Thor to get on with it and beat their arses out of their skies.

He was twenty now, and as he stared down at his reflection in the mead, he didn't see much of a difference. Still high cheeks, still wide green eyes. Shaggy hair that got everywhere all the time - half burned on his right side not from the forge these days, but because some terror or other thought it may make a good lunch. He needed Mother Goethi to wrangle those little monsters a little bit better.

But he wasn't the same boy, not really. He wasn't even a boy anymore. He was a man of twenty, future chief of Berk and engaged to be married.

The smirk that spread on his face wasn't one he would let out if Astrid was in the room. She'd either clock him or give him one of those smoky looks that made sleeping _very_ difficult, especially because she tended to throw one of her legs over him at night. It was torture, knowing that creamy thigh was right there. He was almost sure she only pretended to sleep when she did that.

And she would be so proud of herself, if she knew that she could torture him at a distance. Here he was, a willing slave to her every look, living the dream. He almost snorted, trying to imagine what a face he would have made if someone had come to him as a boy, peeking out the window of the forge to try to get a glimpse of her hair (and her legs), that in five short years, he'd see the world, come back here, and wake up every morning with one hand buried deep in those silky gold strands, and the other cupping her rear.

He was lucky he always woke up first. He'd either be dead or an oath breaker.

He smiled down at his cup again, the memory making him warmer than the fire, as it always did. He sent a prayer of thanks up to Lofn, to Sjofn, to Frigga and Freya, and all the merciful ones who had allowed his path to cross with hers again. He had been an idiot to leave, a larger idiot to almost do it again and a bigger one still to love her. But in the end, she cared for him, idiot and all, and he needed nothing else.

Spying his little girl's writing exercise discarded on the ground with the corner of his eyes, he bent down to snatch it up, smoothing the parchment out to look at the unsteady lines. She'd filled in quite a few of the exercises, so at least her aching hand hadn't been a complete farse. But he should have known; she may be his little girl, but she was a Hofferson, really. Her brand of hardheadedness came with a lean towards getting her goal, no matter what it was, as well as she could get it. He gave a little smile as he scribbled a new set of runes for her to copy out - that one would probably get him a punch later. Or he'd get lucky, maybe.

A mournful chirp rose up, giving a whine and a hiccup. Hiccup sat up straight in his chair, ears straining to hear more. The dragonets were doing what passed for crying among their species, and it tended to break his heart. Wound or no wound, if they didn't settle, he'd hop out there to give Toothless a hand in consoling them.

Ætta's little voice piped up instead, singing a bedtime song Astrid made herself perform even if he teased her about it. She was comforting the poor things; the dragonlings hadn't yet grown used to their mother being gone, and had begun to cling to Toothless and the rest of them obsessively. They were growing fast; but not fast enough to forgo comfort when it was offered. That dragon … the female night fury had stayed long enough to accept a name. Hiccup had been thinking about it, and he'd asked her when he felt that she was on the point of leaving. She had accepted his name, and it gave him hope that she would be back.

Hlin. Goddess of comfort, consolation and protection. He hoped that naming her after the goddess would shield her from danger so she would return again, next year, to comfort and console his battle brother. He liked to think that when she accepted the name, she accepted his prayers too. Hiccup really hoped so, for Toothless' sake.

The little dragons began making trilling little noises when Ætta changed song, trying to sing along with her, and Hiccup heard Toothless and Fireworm groaning - poor adults got precious little sleep with the tiny dragons trying to awaken them and make a racket in the wee hours of the morning. The long Winter nights were getting shorter, but they still didn't seem short enough for the energetic bundles. He was glad that Ætta at least seemed to be past the phase where she wanted attention at three hours past midnight. Brunhilda had been enjoying the faces he made when she told him all the horror stories of early fatherhood, with Stoick contributing enthusiastically. They were helping him keep his oath at least in part; the other part of him wanted to see Astrid with child, see her with her hair up breastfeeding their little ones as he held them both.

'Autumn...' he sighed to himself, ripping a corner off another piece of fresh parchment and jotted down a few lines, hiding it under a bowl on her cooking table. She'd find it, eventually.

As if thinking about her had brought her to him, Astrid pushed the hut's door open, battling against the wind to shut it again.

'Oooh, that was _not_ a good day,' she groaned, shuddering as she began shedding her layers of fur and holding her hands out towards the fire.

'Sorry, milady,' he said regretfully. She gave him a look, half amusement, half admonishment.

'I much prefer having you here, safe by the fire, and knowing your wound is healing.' She hung her clothes on the hook, walking around the pit to sit in his lap and tap his nose playfully. 'Besides, I don't mind teaching at the academy. We couldn't even fly today with all the wind, so we had a tiny treasure hunt.'

Hiccup pulled her into a tighter hug, breathing her in and rubbing her back as she willing rested against him, going boneless as he massaged her scalp. 'Hid a few clues here and there with a treat at the end of the trail?'

'Something like that. The prize was getting some special time with Berk's dragon master,' she replied cheekily, laughing against his shoulder when he groaned.

'Woman, you need to stop selling me out like that,' he grumbled, resting his chin on her head.

'You're the one who gave me the idea in the first place,' she chuckled back, digging her fingers into his sides and making him squirm before he clamped his elbows down on them.

'Oh?'

'Who's the one leaving me all those scraps of poetry everywhere?' she asked, wiggling her head out of his grip and looking up at him with a pout he promptly kissed. She let go of her mock annoyance readily, curling up in his lap even more closely as her knees pressed against his armpit.

'You want me to stop?' he teased, moving up to kiss her brows.

'Don't you dare,' she chuckled back. He grinned, preening at the success of his courting. He loved that she loved it, and simply basked in the fact that he _could_. After years of dreaming, just doing things like this felt like a touch of Asgard. 'Where's Ætta?'

'Well, she finished almost all her exercises, so I let her take a break to play with Toothless' children,' he admitted, trying not to look too guilty.

'You've a soft heart, Hiccup Haddock. I won't let you ruin that girl,' she said, slapping his side mildly. 'Just keep to ruining me, and let me deal with the children.'

'Oh, so you allow your own ruining?' he grinned, sitting up straighter and cradling her head to rest in the crook of his elbow. She smiled up at him, allowing herself to be somewhat manhandled without breaking all his fingers. 'How generous of you.'

'I'm beyond rescue now,' she sighed dramatically, 'you've turned me into one of those mushy women who can't wait to see her promised and pines away all day!' She held her fingers to her forehead in despair. 'I must at least save the children from being hopelessly spoiled.'

'I don't spoil her!' She gave him a look. ' … that badly,' he conceded.

'You Haddock men,' she muttered, moving her free hand up to caress his cheeks. 'Between your father dandling her around and you passing her sweet meats and apple tarts, it's a wonder she gets anything done.'

'I did make her promise she'd continue once you returned,' he murmured back, leaning against her. 'Should I call her?'

'Mmm,' she hummed, beginning to rub her nose against his as he moved closer and closer. 'Maybe in a bit...'

She stretched up and kissed him. He rested his elbow against the armrest on his chair and curled up around her. She was warm, but her fingers were still chilled when they slipped into his hair, pressing him down by the nape of his neck. He shivered and she hummed, pressing herself up to his chest until his heart was beating so hard that he was sure she felt it against her breast. He could feel her pulse, fluttering against his lips as he moved down her neck, enjoying her stifled moans and gasps as he took a taste of her sweaty skin. The salt on his tongue made his own skin flush, her smell cloying his nose and taking over his thoughts as it always did. His arm wound from his battle against Dagur stretched sorely, but he ignored it, concentrating instead on rubbing circles into her scalp with his fingertips, and gently suckling her lower lip.

'_Throw out the old clothes, bring in the new,_

_fill up the chest and put on the stew._

_Give him the sword and give her the ring,_

_Braid up her hair behind earrings._

_Wait from the fruit to fall to the grass,_

_After Thor's hammer knocked on the glass_'

Astrid groaned, pushing him gently until their lips separated. Ætta's little voice was accompanied by the dragonets' chirps and the thumps of her hopping.

'Mother taught her that one?' she asked, sitting up slightly and slinging her arms around his neck. Hiccup shrugged.

'It would seem so. She was pretty adamant about teaching it to us back then, too.'

'Yes, I remember that she was the one who suggested we sing it when we were doing our counting and skipping games.' They fell quiet as Ætta repeated the verse a few times, obviously trying to get through the skipping routine perfectly. Hiccup smiled at her determination, but those last few verses made him wonder ...

'_Come to the hall hair tumbling down_

_Flowers and leaves wove into a crown_

_Over the step don't stumble at all_

_Deep in the wood, the sword never falls_

_In her sweet lap the hammer he'll drop_

_And in her bower, his search will stop._'

Hiccup felt his cheeks go up in flames as he realised exactly what the subject of the little ditty was.

'Dear gods, we sang this as children?' he choked. Astrid blinked up at him for a second, and then retrained her ears towards Ætta's clumsy little voice as she sang and hopped, the dragons joining in and interrupting. He knew exactly the moment where the familiar words, so old and so well-known and ingrained, suddenly took on the meaning they _actually_ had, rather than the notions of fun and games and closeness they'd associated with them as children. Astrid's face joined his as her cheeks flushed, but her mouth twisted into a snarl.

'Why that tricky little...' she hissed. Hiccup tried to contain the tears as her hands curled into his nape, pulling his fine hairs. 'No wonder she was on about how she knew we'd be married!'

'Don't yell, you'll startle the children,' he sighed, holding her tight.

'_The Journey has ended_

_The treasure is found,_

_The honey is meaded_

_Her belly is round._

_Hop to the hall with buds in your hair_

_If by next harvest, they will be fair_

_Then it is your turn to wear a crown,_

_Smelling of sweet herbs with your hair down._'

Astrid blinked, then snorted and hid her face in his neck. 'This is cruel,' she sighed.

'Well, my journey _has_ ended,' he whispered in her ear. He felt her smile against his skin, and her fingers gently caressed his head.

'My treasure is found,' she muttered. His heart all but burst in his chest. He grinned and kissed her temple.

'The honey is meaded,' he chuckled, going along with her game.

She was silent for a moment before pushing away to look at him. 'How many?'

'What?' he asked, confused. 'Honey barrels? Well, it depends on the harvest, but by last count we have ...'

'No, idiot,' she chuckled. 'How many children do you want.'

He was struck dumb for a moment, blinking at her. Then she nudged him slightly, getting his brain back on track again, and she smiled, forcing him to smile back before he couldn't even try to stop himself.

'As many as we are lucky to have,' he replied, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

'And since I'm going to keep you busy after the wedding,' she hissed, trying to make it sound like a threat when it really, really wasn't…

'Ah, the gods hate me,' he sighed in mock despair, and Astrid snickered in satisfaction.

'Mama Astrid!' Ætta exclaimed as she came back into the room, one of Toothless' dragonets cradled in her arms while the other followed at her ankle. They were already almost too large for her to carry, but no one could say that the little girl didn't try. Astrid reluctantly uncurled from his lap, dropping one last kiss onto his cheek before she turned to the girl.

'It's almost bedtime, young lady,' she said, taking both dragons from the child and shooing her back towards the parchment. 'And I'm guessing you haven't finished that.'

'No, mama. But I promised I'd continue once you came, so I will,' she replied with a nod. Hiccup saw Astrid hide a smile, and he grinned at her cheekily over the child's head. She sneered at him before she poked her tongue out. The four-year-old was quickly situated on a bench with a writing block on her lap, the two dragonets curling around her ankles as she sounded out the runes she was copying.

'You're a cheeky little bastard, aren't you?' Astrid said to him as she came back, holding back a laugh in her whisper as she helped Hiccup stand to move closer to the fire. 'You think you can tease me at a distance. Well, too bad I know where you sleep!'

He still grinned back. 'I can say the same. In fact, I know where your thigh sleeps...'

'V … I ... R …' Ætta sounded out as she worked.

'Cheat,' she murmured, going red. She wasn't yet used to how close to him she got as they slept, and while that thigh she threw across his lap gave his self-control no end of grief, it also gave him teasing rights. He kept grinning, not refuting her accusation as he sat down on a stool and allowed her to look at his wound. A pot of food Brunhilda had dropped off earlier was merrily bubbling away, and the howling wind outside suddenly made this the best place in the world.

'I love you,' he blurted out, not quite in control of his mouth. She froze for a second, but then flushed with pleasure and kissed his knee as she finished washing the scars.

'Still want that wedding night first,' she replied cheekily.

'K … I ….' Ætta continued, each rune sound long and drawn out as she traced the lines on the parchment.

'Wow, so much to look forward to,' he teased back.

'S … S … M ...'

'Autumn,' she sang out, dropping small pecks around his stump and making him squirm.

'Autumn,' he replied with a nod. He couldn't help feeling it was so far away.

'E ...'

Astrid blinked, and looked at the child. Hiccup smirked.

'K … I … S … S … M … E ...' she annunciated again, going through the exercise five times as she always did.

'This is a new low, Haddock,' she said archly, rising to sit into his lap again after she strapped the soft gauze onto the scabbed wound. 'Using our little girl to send me hints...'

'She doesn't seem to mind,' he said, grinning wider. The child was happily oblivious to her role in his ploy.

'K … I … S … S ….'

'Well, if you insist,' she chuckled, pressing her mouth to his. The child in the room forced them to keep it chaste, but it was no less involved.

'Later,' she whispered against his lips as they broke off, looking meaningfully at the reeds keeping their bedroom private.

Their bedroom. That still gave him a thrill, even if he knew they could not do what they both wished; not just yet.

'Later,' he confirmed with a smile, letting her slip off his lap again and trailing his fingers across her clothes as she moved around the fire, taking the pot off the hook and leaving it close to the flame instead so it wouldn't burn.

Hiccup smiled, looking on with a full heart as his family formed around him, still new, still fragile as all fledglings were, but also so surprisingly strong where it counted. He watched Ætta finish her task and take the dragonets back to their father, Toothless greeting them with a sleepy, happy grunt and probably nuzzling them to bed. Hiccup moved back to his chair after his father came home, tired and hungry from a long day, sitting beside him and chatting as they all ate, Ætta nodding off at their feet.

After the fire had been banked, the child put to bed and the stairs duly mounted with that strange, dogged manner that was simply ingrained into their culture, Hiccup relaxed back into the pillows, his bones aching pleasantly at the prospect of rest. His drooping eyes followed Astrid as she went around the room, blowing out all candles except the one she carried in a dish, and then slipping into bed with him before extinguishing that one too.

He held her to him strongly, smiling into the darkness when her lips gently traced his cheeks; no urgency, only tenderness.

'Tired?' he whispered, turning his head to nuzzle her.

'Very,' she sighed, hugging him closer and kissing his cheek again. He dropped a peck on her temple.

'Later,' he whispered. She chuckled lightly.

'Hold you to it,' she conceded, moving to nuzzle into his shoulder and rest. Her leg automatically came over his lap, and he nearly snorted.

'I love you,' he teased instead. She chuckled, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

'Sleep, my Viking prince,' she murmured, her voice already slurred with fatigue. Hiccup smiled into the dark room, his heart picking up and then settling again as he felt her smiling against his chest. It was really only his title on Berk - he was the heir to the chiefdom and throne, in a sense - but it took on so much more meaning when she said it like that.

'Goodnight, Asta,' he said as quietly as possible once he was sure she was asleep. She moved and murmured but didn't wake, nose rubbing against him sweetly.

He drifted off with a smile.

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Inspired by a real 'valentine' message left on a bone. I am sure that you cannot see a complete URL, but if you google 'daily mail' and 'article-2558450/Kiss-Experts-finally-crack-900-year-old-Norse-code-reveal-ancient-love-message' you will probably be able to find a good article about it. Just googling 'expert decodes norse love message' may bring it up.

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Now comes the great **big honking AN (with spoilers)**:

1) To start, let's talk about After Everything …

A lot of you know that Foxy and I are friends, and have been asking me about how After Everything, her current multi-chapter, breaks the mould of her usual works. To start, I would like to say that I don't mind the questions; I consult with Foxy before answering, and she knows I am putting up this AN (incidentally, sorry it's coming a few days late, hun, but I decided to take a 'mental health no internet for today' break!). She is currently away, so I'm putting up this note to remind folks that she won't have internet access for a good while.

In any case a lot of the readers were very unhappy that the story was breaking some unwritten pattern … but that is the point. Foxy is breaking the form with that story. It is an experiment; she's trying something new. She's never written in a single point of view for the entirety of a story and it is a very difficult thing to do while keeping a story running. A lot of people have been unhappy with it, but the thing is, she's working to increase her range, make better the things she can already do and find new things she can write. I'm ridiculously proud of her for having such a steep learning curve, and right now she's working on narrative perspective. It's very, very hard, for the record, to pull off a single-perspective story on the first go, so give her a little time. After Everything IS Hiccstrid. There is a lot of Hiccstrid going on the background that the readers have not seen yet _because_ it is single perspective. Harry Potter is that way – you only knew what Harry knew, and in this case, you only know what Astrid knows. I am also going go voice an unpopular opinion after here, so skip them if you are easily offended

2) But here are the AE-related unpopular opinions, to quote one of my idols, Dorothy L Sayers;

A. A woman is free to look, same as men are free to look. You can look, and you can be attracted to someone, even if you are in a committed relationship with someone else. It's pretty normal, and it's perfectly ok unless you _act_ on it. Readers harping on the Astrid character for looking at Eret and appreciating Freya's gifts to women need to broaden their horizons. Panoramic view is always preferable.

B. And author can change style and change preference between different stories. As authors, none of you – I mean _none_ – should be restricted to a pairing, or a topic, or a particular style in fanfiction. These are your glory years, this is fanfiction. If an author makes it into the publishing market, it's a little more difficult, because it's hard enough to gain a readership, and then you have to please the critics. You know, people who write reviews in newspapers and give you ratings and determine whether you get to keep that readership or not. Heck, even JK Rowling had to write under a pseudonym to escape the stigma of critic comparison when she decided she would write in a new style. Fanfiction on the other hand is peer reviewed; you can and you _must_ experiment. It's the playground where you grow and stretch your author muscles and try new things.

3) The Film (and MORE unpopular opinions):

I spent the first few viewings _hating_ it. Yes. I _hated it_ the first few times I watched it – Hiccup was behaving nothing like the sweet little boy who'd stolen my heart four years ago, and 'growing up' isn't a good enough excuse in my books to make someone unrecognisable. He cared absolutely nothing for Astrid's safety when he summarily gave her up to Eret's men (You: That's because he trusts her warrior skills and they had their dragons! Me: It's a _boat full of men_ who know how to tie dragons up and she's a single girl with _no weapon_. Drago's men had no problem restraining her. Please draw your own conclusions). He does not wonder about her when he doesn't see her behind him after he leaves Eret's boat, and does not even ask if she's ok when she suddenly shows up on the battlefield of the nest, together with the rest of the team. He did not once turn around and ask Toothless if he was alright when they crashed. He never stopped for a moment to listen to anyone's advice, not his father, not Astrid, not even his mother.

In other words he was such an arse that I wanted to grab him by the buckles, slap him silly and tell him to get a personality transplant, which shocked me, as I love that boy, I really do. I have a maternal streak a mile wide and I was all for adopting him and feeding him till he burst. We took to calling him McHeroFace, because that arse who is so full of himself he doesn't care about the people who love him most just can't be our Hiccup.

Then I realised one thing that changed the entire perspective of the entire thing. Back before the film came out, when the fact that Hiccup's mother was in the film leaked, I was discussing what her role would be with Arctic Repartee on tumblr. I humbly suggested that Hiccup would have to choose between his affinity with dragons, and his (not so much) affinity with humans, with his mother and his father representing each one. And I did not so much forget that as I simply could not see it, because it's only actually a superficial theme.

Thing is, I realised that Hiccup is _not the hero of this story_. Don't get me wrong, he plays an important role in it, but he's actually not the main hero (he's more of a damsel in distress. No, really). The people who undergo the most important emotional journeys in this film are Stoick, Toothless and, in a more minor scope, Eret, with Hiccup as a lynch pin and Drago as the motivator. Hiccup spent the entire film being _terrified_. He was butt-clenchingly scared of the chief role, so much that he's in total panic mode. Astid speaks to him, but she's happy about it and so he runs away from her too. He finds out about Drago and decides; yes! This is my chance, I'll show dad that _this_, and not chiefing, is what I'm good at, and he'll drop the issue. He meets Valka, who looks for a while as if she may understand and even be an out for his situation, but she stone-walls him in the same way Stoick does (there's no talking to Drago; we protect our own), and he runs from that too. He rejects Toothless, running from the act that his dragon committed not to admit that it's mostly his fault his father is dead (mostly. The final blame still falls on Drago. If someone kills your father with a sword, do you blame the sword?) It's only when he sets fire to his father's pyre that he stops running, and then the serious backbone starts to grow.

Unfortunately, it coincides with Toothless' redemption arc, so once again the Hiccup character had to stand back and watch as the central role was taken by his dragon. Hiccup did not even score a solitary victory against Drago (dropping him off the BB doesn't count, because he was almost killed moments later because he ignored the BB completely) while the Bewilderbeast was defeated by Toothless – which would not really have been believable, in all honesty, as the man was evenly matched with Stoick in strength. But a sword fight with Hiccup showing agility and winning through ingénue – as he did in the first film? It would have been welcome. I still don't mind that Toothless took the spotlight.

This also put into perspective the reason why Valka was the one who gave Hiccup his peptalk after they set Stoick afloat. I was hugely annoyed that Astrid had not reprised the role, as she is the closest thing to family he has there apart from Gobber (who is too busy making me bawl my eyes out when his voice breaks at 'friend'). Valka had given him a little BS peptalk before where she'd decided that 'this is who we are' regarding the two and dragons (after knowing him for three hours … but more on that later). She needed to _take that back_. She needed to redact her assessment of the boy, because her first one, not surprisingly, is wrong.

Which brings me to …

4) Possibly the most unpopular opinion of all. Valka. Gods I _hate_ the woman. If I had to choose who I hate most between her and Drago, I'd go with her every single time. Now, this is opinion, first and foremost, but where I stand, a mother worth her salt does _not abandon her infant child_. She can save the world three thousand times in a myriad of ways from here on out for me, nothing will redeem her in my eyes. She abandoned her baby _twice_; first she went out to stop people from killing dragons, rather than _staying with her baby who is a newborn and needs protection_, then she _did not come back_ even though she obviously had the means to. Heck, her being ALIVE is the best proof of all that what she was saying about dragons has weight. She preferred to raise thousands of dragons, instead of one tiny boy, because the _dragons were easier_. (You: But … Midi, Hiccup almost left in the first one. Blimey, you made him leave in the Becoming Edda and he almost did again in Holt! Me: _He did not have an infant son_, and he _stayed, _which makes all the difference). Nothing this character does for me will redeem her, because she has made herself detestable in my eyes with this one act.

It is also why I hate 'the dancing and the dreaming' and headdesk every time I see Hiccup proposing to Astrid in this way. Don't get me wrong, I see the appeal and it truly is a sweet little ditty; it's romantic and brave and all the things that warm your heart, and it makes you wonder whether Stoick made it up _for_ Valka. But the truth is I really don't want Hiccup and Astrid anywhere near it, because it is a song about broken vows. The two singers vow to stay together, to love one another, to never part, and to protect each other. Valka broke all of those vows, and Stoick was unable to keep the protection part of the vow either. A song about broken vows (that is the last thing these two ex-lovers do together before one of them dies) is not something I can find within myself to make Hiccup and Astrid do. It feels like a bloody bad omen. I even had the plan of Hiccup and Astrid singing the wedding ditty Ǽtta sang above to each other on their wedding night, and now I'm debating whether to nix that idea.

And thus end the Unpopular Opinions. I'm guessing all those who _asked_ for mine are now regretting it wholeheartedly. This may or may not have been the evil motive all along. *thunderclap* I'm an evil overlord. Reputations don't come without hard work.


	2. Snorri's View

**Because somehow, I imagine Berk is full of shippers. And gossipers. And dirty minded Vikings.**

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_**Berkian Eddur - 3**_

_**Meeting at **__**Iðavöllr**_

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2. Snorri's View

Earthquakes were not altogether foreign to Berk. One of their mountains still carried the clear signs of having been a volcano in its younger years, and the occasional tremor still shook the island.

Nothing like the large shake that woke everyone up that early spring morning however, things tumbling to the ground off shelves, vases shattering and wooden halls groaning. It lasted all of five seconds, but it was severe enough to have everyone sitting up and screaming in their beds.

Astrid barely had a moment to awaken before she felt Hiccup's weight on top of her.

'Don't move!' he hissed breathlessly. 'Toothless!' he called over the racket. 'Get everyone out of the houses! Call the dragons!'

The ground stopped trembling moments after the words stopped coming from his mouth, but Hiccup was up seconds later, fire at his feet as he fitted his appendage and dragged her from bed.

'What on earth- Hiccup!' she protested, trying to hold him back from dragging her out in her night clothes. 'It's just a shake, it will-'

'Not right now, Astrid! The dragons were being ansty yesterday and now I know why. Move, move!'

He pulled her down the steps, pausing to scoop a still sleepy Ætta from her bed.

'Dad!' he yelled next, banging on his bedroom wall, giving Ætta to Astrid and pushing her towards the door. 'Dad, up, out!'

'I know, son!' Stoick appeared at the door of his room, armour over his bedclothes. He nodded at his son and was out the door in two strides, grabbing his helmet on the way.

'Hiccup, what is it?' Astrid asked him once they were outside, quickening her pace to keep up with his stride. He had been cleared to walk just two days ago, and she would almost thinking this was just an excuse to run, were it not for the trepidation on his face. Toothless was calling all the dragons, most of Berk's population following their reptilian companions into the streets when they flew out of their lodges to follow the night fury's command. Some of the older adults looked as grim as Hiccup and Stoick; some looked as confused as she felt.

'Look up,' he told her quietly, and she realised for the first time that flocks of birds where high-tailing it out of the woods, making a panicked racket. 'I've seen this, once. The locals told me that it happens often there and that there are always more than-'

He hadn't finished speaking before the ground beneath their feet gave another strong jolt, sending them all to their knees. Ætta screamed, scared out of her mind, and Astrid huddled her to her breast, feeling Hiccup's arms close around them. Astrid threw her hand over his head, instinctively trying to protect them both.

'It's ok, little one,' he reassured her - but it was Astrid he stroked as she trembled despite herself. She had _never_ known the earth to shake like this - not since that _bloody monster_ had broken out of the mountain on dragon island. 'Once we're outside, we're alright.'

'Son,' Stoick said, getting onto his feet. 'Do you think you should get your family to the beach, and-'

'No, we should keep everyone inland, with the dragons nearby and ready to take off,' Hiccup replied. 'You know the tides can play funny tricks when something like this happens. If this is a small one it will be over soon, but if it's big ...'

'We've had no big ones in decades, son,' Stoick replied, looking up at the birds mixing with the terrible terrors. Toothless ran up to them, and Hiccup quickly strapped Ætta to him safely, switching the gear to the auxillary tail. '…but we shouldn't take the chance.'

'If things get dicey, you take care of her and your own kids, you hear?' Hiccup told him sternly. Toothless gave him a snarl, nuzzling him with his head so hard he almost toppled him over. 'Toothless, family first.'

'We won't need to go to extremes, idiot,' Astrid admonished him, flicking his ear even as she clutched his arm when another tremor hit. 'We stick together, and we'll all be fine. Come on, let's all go the flat plain behind the village.'

'That's a _fantastic_ idea. Dad?' The chief nodded. 'Yeah. Heard that, Toothless? Let's get everyone there.'

It was a wicked three hours that followed, the still chill morning air seeping through their night clothes directly into their bones, tremor after tremor shaking the ground under them. The dragons and their young huddled around with their human families, the children screaming less and less frequently as they grew used to the grass shivering, some of them even making a game of it to see who could stand longest.

'The largest one was after the crack,' Stoick said to his son, finally sitting down beside them. There had been a loud, startling, cracking noise like a tight-rope snapping a while ago, and they'd all been more on edge for a while after it. The echoing splitting noise like a whip crack had had them all ducking, but new seemed to have settled again. Hiccup had rallied a few of the warriors to make a headcount, leaving Stoick with only the job of hollering everyone to their chosen safe-place. Astrid had gone with him, Ætta cuddled against her when she'd managed to finagle her way out of the saddle straps, and they'd only, finally, settled themselves as the tremors got less, and the people all seemed to have made it away. 'That was an hour ago.'

'Yeah,' Hiccup said with a sigh. He finally let himself rest back against Toothless, his father coming to sit with them obviously switching his 'high alert' mental state off. Astrid was glad; he suddenly looked exhausted.

Then she blinked, because she was looking at the two men, and she was seeing the same expression. She would have laughed, but it didn't seem appropriate.

'The day's barely begun,' Stoick sighed, rolling his shoulders and turning to look at the sun, creeping up on a new day that started rather unlike its brothers and sisters. 'We have a good ten hours of daylight to assess the damage.'

'Hopefully the sound travelled far,' Astrid said, giving them both a warm smile. Her boys; she was so very proud of them.

'Yes, let's hope,' Stoick grumbled. 'I don't quite feel like starting to rebuild again. We'd just settled down!'

Hiccup chuckled. 'We'll see.'

As it turned out, they'd been lucky. The village proper was largely untouched, save for the Jorgensen dragon barn, still in the middle of construction, that had suffered the minor set-back of caving in completely. Astrid snickered when she heard Fishlegs heartily complementing Snotlout on his amazing building abilities in that flat, sarcastic, jibing tone so typical of Hiccup, but which had somehow infected their entire group.

The extent of the damage to their island was a far different story, however. They didn't know until a number of dragon riders rose for reconnaissance, Ætta staying at the Hofferson hall while Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout and Fishlegs led a number of teams out to see. What had once been Troll's Peak had further collapsed in on itself, very few of the newly formed caves surviving as new debris fell and settled. At least Tuff would be glad to know that the infamous one he'd dubbed 'Bog's Love' was still standing - if greatly reduced in size. A large number of boulders had rolled into the sea, raising the level of the water so that some of the caves became tide-pools, and others were submerged completely, creating a dangerous, rocky terrain that Hiccup and Fishlegs agreed would probably become a Thunderdrum nesting site within their generation.

That was not the most devastating change, however. Two marked landscape shifts had Fishlegs and the other scrambling for maps and new parchment, trying to compensate for the sudden, shocking new addition of land that had appeared out of the sea, as if a dragon had lifted its back out of the waves, black and smoking. Hiccup had preened when they'd decided to call it 'Night Fury Squall' due to its colour and how hot the ground still was. Astrid teased him mercilessly about how stupidly puff-chested he got, but he still grinned at her in a way that had her dragging him up the stairs for a nice session of 'later', after he reminded her that together with 'Toothless' Cove', this was the second place on the island they were naming after his battle brother.

The _other_ landscape change … well, Astrid hoped to go there, soon. Probably drag Hiccup there, instead of the bedroom. Now there was a nice idea…

=0=

Brunhilda chuckled as she watched her daughter almost skip like a little girl, her arm extended backwards as she refused to let go of her intended's fingers, but he teasingly refused to walk faster.

'Come on, we'll miss the sunset!' she chirped, and Brunhilda exchanged a glance with Hiccup that was all fondness and cheekiness. Astrid had been waiting to go to the newly formed hot springs since their inception a few weeks prior. However, the duties of the chiefing family weren't few, and even with all the privileges they brought, and the private baths Brunhilda knew Astrid adored in the Haddock hall itself, new things on Berk were hard to come by, and this was as new as they came. Between the repairs and parols, they had all been kept busy, however, and Astrid's eagerness had whetted into a giddy sort of excitement when they could finally get away.

Hiccup had at least seen it, as he and a team of others had diverted a stream to be able to regulate the spring's temperature and keep them all from boiling alive, and finished it in wide river stones selected by gronkles. But they had finally been able to find one of the cousins willing to look after Ætta for a few hours, and Astrid had threatened Stoick on pain of axe wounds if he gave Hiccup anything to do for that evening. So here they were, trying to keep Astrid from running through the woods towards the steaming pools, a grin on her face.

They had done a good job of lining the bottom and sides with stones; the pool itself had been shaped with rocks formed with the help of the dragons, and was large enough to divide into two, with the married folk on one end and the unmarried on the other. Brunhilda didn't know who had made the rule that the unmarried folk had to be clothed, but she realised upon arriving that it was a good idea. Gustav looked like he was about to faint at the mere glimpses he was seeing, and Brunhilda was sure it had nothing to do with the water's temperature.

It was an unspoken thing, when Hiccup and Astrid moved towards the married part of the pool, still holding hands. He turned away respectfully while she undressed (and glared down some of the other men who dared to look), while she had no compunction to ogle him as he came in. Few were in the pool with them at first, but as the sunset hour approached, more and more people began to make their way through the tree lines. The pool itself was on a cresting hill, kept from too much wind by the trees all around on three sides. The remaining side faced the slope, the sea some distance away - never too far on Berk - offering a backdrop as the sun descended into it.

Discretely, Brunhilda watched her daughter and future son-in-law together as he let her wash his hair and she let him kneed the knots out of her neck before they rested against one another. Having come early, and being of the chiefing family, they were allowed to retain the best spot, looking out at the sea shimmering in reds and yellows, until purple took over, and the first stars began winking out over the trees.

Astrid sighed, turning her head to look at Hiccup sadly. Without a word, he rose, giving all the ladies in the pool a rather nice view before he rubbed himself down and put on his trousers, holding up the soft pelt for Astrid to climb out (and glaring once again) and while she dressed herself. Everyone pretended not to look as they murmured and stole kisses from one another until Astrid was fully dressed.

'Already going?' Brunhilda called.

'Ætta will be terribly grumpy with us all day tomorrow if she doesn't see us before she sleeps,' Astrid replied with a half-laugh, half-sigh. The couple was gone with a wave, disappearing into the tree line.

'Such a pity they could not adopt that girl,' Sigga sighed, leaning back to look up at the sky once the two had gone.

'Oh, aye,' Droploug replied as she massaged her feet. 'But she's a ward of the family anyway, and it seems to make them narry a difference what the scrolls in the hall say.'

Sigga grunted in agreement, Spitelout giving a shrug. 'She couldn't be heir. She's no Haddock blood, and judging by what the eyes say, we'll have Haddock heirs soon enough.'

A titter rose in the spring, and Brunhilda sat quietly, listening in as all the others seemed to have forgotten she was there.

'Well; unless the poor child gets in the way. T'will be no fault of hers, poor bairn, but little ones so tend to put a stop to … other things. And them two, not yet married and already being drawn away from summat like this to tend to her…'

'True, that. S'why we tried to convince him to let Het's clan adopt her, but he wouldn't hear of it. Astrid's her godmother in any case, and he won't have anyone else be called father by that girl if he's breathing,' Codlungs Ingermann said with a laugh, making the water ripple as his girth wobbled.

'Aye, s'word,' sighed one of the younger mothers, lounging against the ledge surrounded by her sisters. 'Astrid's lucked out with that one. He's a good man; doesn't even like his mead much, not like my Narl.'

'I think that's not why she's lucky,' one of her sisters piped up, chuckling. 'Off he went coverin' _her_ up, and giving us a nice view!'

'Mind Astrid hears,' Sigga laughs, 'she won't leave you eyes to enjoy it with.'

The pool laughed as darkness began gathering. This late-night out would have been unthinkable only a year ago, with the threat of dragons so pressing and constantly imminent. Now those same creatures were sitting by the pool banks, snigging curiously and accepting caresses, and would help them home in the dark. Stars popped out in their multitudes, wavy strokes of cloud-like plumes adorning the sky together with the studded sparkles.

'Say,' the young mother spoke again, voice low and conspiratorial. 'Is it true that Astrid is still a maiden?'

Sigga sat up, glancing once at Droploug before both their eyes moved to Brunhilda. The older woman quietly waved a hand; she wanted to see what was to be said.

'Oh, aye,' one of the hall matrons replied as she washed her hair. 'Heard he made a vow not to touch her till their wedding night.'

'No way!' one of the husbands laughed. 'Our chief's son is either made of ice, or steel. They share a bed!'

'What?' one of the sister asked, intrigued and incredulous. 'And he hasn't touched her? Bollocks!'

'_I_ think we should be keeping an eye on her belly,' the bar matron replied archily. 'Wouldn't mind either - the Haddock blood's strong as ever. Look what a son Stoick made!'

'We've looked,' the young mother laughed. 'We're still looking!'

'I recon it will be another two months before they crack,' one of the men grunted. 'They're good children, Stoick should be proud, but they're young, in love and sharing a bed. It won't be long, and Gritta's right, whether she's ripe before or after they marry, the child's welcome.' The bar matrol nodded. 'I commend the boy for the idea, but I'll reckon our Astrid will be with-child by the twelve-month.'

'I'm thinking closer to the five-month count. We'll have new little Haddock by the spring after this, you'll see.'

'If she keeps looking at him the way she did now, they won't last another two,' another woman laughed. 'And he's not likely to disappoint her, either. Did you see the length of him?'

Brunhilda looked pointedly up at the stars as the conversation turned to the rather more interesting aspects of her future son - it was one thing to joke about the boy's firm arse with her daughter and their friends, a laugh by the river as they washed their linens. It was rather another to watch other women covet her daughter's husband-to-be. Just as the conversation was taking a turn towards the decidedly uncomfortable as the men began to speculate on what _they_ thought the boy had done during his five-year absence, Droploug turned to Brunhilda.

'What'd you say, Bru,' the woman asked kindly, making sure to speak loud enough for all of them to hear. 'She's your daughter, you'd know her best.'

The young mother and her sisters blushed, looking at one another with cringing embarrassment when they realised that she had heard everything they said. Brunhilda only smirked.

'Astrid's still a maiden. The boy's as good as his word,' she sighed. 'But I have to admit, I wish he wasn't making her wait. I want to see my only daughter have her own children before I grow too old to spoil them.'

Sigga laughed, Spitelout giving a snort.

'You'll outlive us all,' he said gruffly. 'Though I must admit, it's hard on the lad and lass that the Thorston affair moved their wedding back.'

'Oh aye!' Gretta replied. 'I'd much rather see them two wed than any. But we'll pray for a bountiful spring, Bru; that way, you'll get your grandkids. We all will, most like.'

Quiet settled over the pool as they all leaned back, looking up at the carpet of shining stars and wavering wisps of clouds, a few nocturnal birds and dragons cutting the light occasionally. The moon began rising, and when it would be up and shining, most of them would head for their homes.

'My money is still on the seven-month,' Sigga grunted, interrupting the quiet peace.

'Oh, aye,' Gritta said. 'I'll put a whole yak on it.'

'Think you can do better?' one of the sisters replied when her husband snorted. 'Go on, put a sheep where your thought is.'

'I call the _five_-month,' he said, 'she'll be with-child before Autumn's out.'

'Put a sheep on it?'

'Try three!'

'I call the three-month,' Droploug suddenly said, mischievously. Brunhilda snorted, unable to contain her laughter as the usually quiet and reserved woman kept brushing her hair while invalidating Hiccup's supposed iron will. 'Three-month, and our little Astrid is gravid.'

'Three sheep on that! Who's keeping tally?' Gritta said. Spitelout snickered and waved a hand. 'Mind you tell Gobber, he'll be right proper annoyed if we leaves him out of the pool.'

'Would only he'd get into a _watery_ one, the village would smell pleasant for a change.'

'Pray for an early wedding for our prince and he will _have_ to,' Sigga snarked. 'I change mine to the three-month too.'

Brunhilda simply chuckled, letting the conversation ebb and flow around her as everyone kept placing their bets and turning to other subjects before it always returned to Hiccup and Astrid, or Tuffnut and Camicazi, and what their future would be like. The moon rose languidly, a silver road on the sea, different currents breaking into the path like shoals of fish switching sides at the drop of a helmet. She wished she could see her daughter and her lover's path that clearly, but for now, she sat back and enjoyed the view.

=0=

The clue is in the name! One of the better preserved and restored old outdoor hot springs of the circa-Viking age is ascribed to have belonged to one Snorri, and it has a fantastic view. You can look it up on Google, best on the link belonging to the website hurstwic dot org. Lots of pretty photos!

=0=

**This chapter is dedicated to the fantastic Funk-Tastic, to whom I owed a one-shot for a gorgeous favour she did me a while ago. I'm sorry it came quite a bit after you so sweetly put me out of my misery, but I obsessed a little over it, as I wanted it to be good enough.**

**I admit to a guilty pleasure when I had Snotlout's mum call Hiccup their 'prince'. I had a snigger moment when Astrid called him 'heir to the throne of Berk' with Drago because I was imagining Hiccup's face if he were called that in the first film. I was in fits.**

=0=


	3. Violentine's Day

**You know, some of the reviewers have decided they're in on the bets and are betting sheep and someone PM'd me with internet yaks. I am highly, highly amused. The bets are on for how long Hiccup manages to keep it in his pants.**

* * *

_**Berkian Eddur - 3**_

_**Meeting at **__**Iðavöllr**_

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3. Violentine's day.

Some people called it Valisblott1 in the other tribes. Berk had other ideas.

There was once a Viking called Violentine. He had a daughter called Lots. She was to marry the village stalwart, Mukus the Mighty, but she couldn't stand the bloke. Unfortunately, her father said otherwise, so she had to bow her head.

Then one day, Mukus' father Phlegm beat Violentine at arm-wrestling during Thawfest, and a family feud was issued. The contract was rescinded, and Lots was betrothed to another guy named Aham, who she happened to fancy.

That, according to Vikings, was extremely romantic. Don't argue, unless you want your nose reshaped.

So it was that a tradition was born to celebrate the lucky chance of Lots marrying Aham, who she sort of fancied, with Violentine being celebrated as the patron of all things romantic. It was the stupidest thing, _ever_.

Fourteen-year-old Hiccup had thought it a stupid thing, at any rate. And he knew it was sour grapes, too.

The thing was, his gifts had always been ... a mixed bag. For starters, the person receiving them had never known who they were from. And the usual 'preferred' method of showing interest didn't work much for him. He couldn't lug three logs while hopping and singing a love song. He couldn't climb a mountain and paint the tip blue, because it was her favourite colour (which he knew for sure), because he'd tried and didn't like pneumonia. The cherry tarts he'd left at her door had been mistaken for Violentine's gifts from her father to her mother, and the cheater hadn't refuted it, because he'd forgotten the holiday. He couldn't even get into a fight with her, bonk her on the head and carry her to her house to declare his love to her father, because Astrid was taller than him, and if he tried to head-butt her, odds where _he_ would be the one passing out … one way or another.

When was twelve, the _axe_ had gone down well. She was never without it, and just loved whacking people with it. It had been true satisfaction to watch Snotlout get a good beating with the handle he'd so meticulously crafted. But he'd felt like a sad sod when he was thirteen, to make her another weapon the next year, so he kept the dagger himself. And then she frowned when she saw it, and got testy. He'd kicked himself for a week after, and dropped a dagger off into her room. She'd used it to clean her nails for a fortnight every chance she got, so she could show it off, but it was a week after Violentine's day. So it didn't count.

When he was fourteen, he'd tried to do something out of the ordinary. He'd dropped flowers and a poem in her room, because serenading felt too old fashioned, and Mr Hofferson looked like he could break Hiccup like a twig. Admittedly the gifts weren't the best. They were just wildflowers and two lines of verse that were more sappy than romantic. She'd been fuming and extra furious all of the following month, vindictively pulling out flowers and trampling them, making him really happy that he'd left it anonymous.

Because that was his junk she was imagining, he was sure of it.

Between ages fifteen and nineteen, Hiccup thought of her every Violentine's day, but his gifts, bought and wrapped, were never sent to Berk. He could have managed, somehow, either accosting Trader Johann or somehow getting one of the heirs to do it, but it never even crossed his mind. He was Hiccup the Unwanted, and buying gifts for the woman he _still_ stupidly loved for Violentine's day was a self-indulgency, more than an honest intention to give it to her - he _could_ have a sweetheart too, even if she'd rather bash his head in with a frying pan than kiss him. So he bought her gifts, and stashed them away to look at and think of her.

When he was twenty, Hiccup was in utter agony. Violentine's day was soon - very soon. And he had no idea what to get Astrid. He legitimately could get her things now. Should get her things. But he was courting her, so he was _constantly_ getting her things. His old fallback of a weapon wasn't even valid anymore, because he'd forgotten all about Violentine's day and given her shiney new wrist-guards just last week. And it would make him feel like a sad sod to give her something he'd made randomly for Violentine's day, anyway.

So he was stuck sitting outside, watching the village while trying to glean an idea - any idea - on what to do. He'd asked his dad, who had become lost in remembering the times with Hiccup's mother. He'd regretted that one, because the deep sighing broke his heart. He'd asked Gobber; no help there. He'd proposed to give her a sheep. What Astrid would do with a sheep he had no idea, when the Haddocks owned three flocks. She'd probably kill it then and there, just to have one less head to worry about, and dinner for a week.

He'd even been desperate enough to ask Snotlout. His cousin had only leered at him. Tuffnut he'd asked too with … predictable results. The male twin was just back from a boat trip to Bog - or one of the outlier islands of Bog, as men were never allowed on the tribe-island proper. Hiccup could only imagine that a repeat of Snoggletog had taken place from his grin, and his mother's face. Hiccup sighed; he was glad that the preparations for the wedding were going smoothly, at least. Hiccup had flown to the outlier Bog islands a few times himself with his father, and the first Freya's day after the spring equinox had been selected. The wedding would take place on the Bog island further from Bog proper, and construction had already begun for the feast tables and the wedding site.

Hiccup scratched his budding stubble. Neither one of the boys had been helpful, but luckily Fishlegs had offered some rather good advice; a foot massage and a day of pampering sounded like the only viable option. In the end, he settled for a picnic on one of Gobber's islands, supplies for a nice foot-massage to be stashed with the food and blankets.

First he'd have to find somewhere to leave Ætta. Then he'd have to devise a way to kidnap Astrid without her suspecting that it was a kidnapping. And then he'd have to find decide what to do with the kidnapped party. He couldn't just … take her on a dragon and show her the sights, and do a few of those daring maneouvers that would force her to cling onto him if she was riding pillion …

… well, that idea had some merit.

He stewed on it for another day before he set things into motion. He risked asking Fishlegs to look after Ætta because he knew his own Violentine's day plans were all about staying inside to care for his newly pregnant wife and treat her like 'the queen of all queens'. He hoped that didn't involve Ruffnut screaming orgasmic obscenities that would lead to Astrid culling Hiccup's balls when Ætta repeated them. His father would probably be breaking up brawls all day, and Brunhilda was out of the question - the woman would probably spill the beans.

It went surprisingly quickly after he'd settled on what to do. A few days before, the only thing left pending was how to get Astrid away. And Hiccup decided that she wouldn't be _too_ annoyed at him if he lied at her for a good cause. He bribed Stormfly with his entire month's ration of chicken at the Hall and then got Fishlegs' last seal of agreement to watch Ætta, packed a large basket with balms and creams and oils, a picnic enough for five people (and one dragon) for the both of them alone, and he tried to hide his beaming smile when he told her he'd heard a rumour of a dragon in one of Gobber's northern-most small islands, and that they had to be stealthy - so the dragon just had to be Toothless - but he didn't dare go without backup, so would she please come?

The smile she got on her face was already a gift enough for him. Hearing her titter and hum as she walked away after bruising his arm was extra bonus.

On a whim, that afternoon he crafted a pretty little leather choker to tie around her neck, hammering studs into it so that it would match her _kransen_ and some of her armour, and wrapped the leather around a bright blue cotton ribbon that would tie it in the back. It wasn't really something Astrid normally wore, but he was feeling jovial and imaginative. When he arrived home, he didn't even mind it that she was already fast asleep, curled on his side of the bed instead of her own and snuggling his pillow. It was nice to be able to spoon her discretely (being careful not to wake her up, because he didn't fancy a broken rib).

He was up bright an early the next day, top of the morning and all that. His dad gave him a wink and a wave as he tottered around the kitchen smiling like an idiot, making preparations - he hadn't told his dad, but both of them knew what day it was, and both of them knew Hiccup had plans with Astrid. His dad could probably imagine.

He bundled a whiny Ætta up, carrying the little girl in his arms still wrapped in her bed clothes all the way to the second Ingermann lodge were Fishlegs was already up and waiting, Woodnut in arm and Ruffnut knocked out on the couch.

'Long night?' he asked, passing his little girl on. Fishlegs just grinned. All the village knew Ruffnut was pregnant again, though she hadn't yet started showing, and from what he could see of Fishlegs's face, they'd been trying to defy nature and see if he could put more babies in her belly. All night.

'Something like that,' the man shrugged, holding one child in each arm.

'Thank you again for doing this for me, Fish,' he sighed. 'Are you sure you don't have plans for the day?'

'Eh, Ruff hates it,' he shrugged. 'So we celebrate around it. She says she will let no idiot ancestor of someone she doesn't even know tell her when she'll celebrate a holiday.' Both men chuckled together. 'All the better for me; she gets a special day the day before, and I get a special one the day after.'

'Smart,' Hiccup grinned, waving as he turned to go, rushing back towards his own hall and arriving just on time to find an irate Toothless waiting for his breakfast. 'Got you covered, bud! Eat it all up, we have a long day today!'

His enthusiasm didn't fade when the day dawned properly and it proved grey and dreary. It was spring, the weather was unpredictable, the terrors were singing on the rooftops, it was Violentine's day and he actually had a plan and a sweetheart this year. Nothing could go wrong.

He'd been tempting fate, of course. Astrid came down not a few moments later, packed and ready to go. Hiccup had attached the picnic saddle bag to Toothless, careful to slip the choker into a plate he would hand her, and then they were off. He'd chosen the northern-most island of the Berkian Territory on purpose, somewhere remote where there were very large glades covered in the grass and wild flowers. It would have been lovely to see the dappled sunlight through the trees, but one could not have everything.

The trip was also a long one, longer than he had anticipated with the heavy saddle bag and extra person, and Astrid spent the majority of it trying to coax details out of him regarding this mysterious new threat dragon that they were supposedly heading to look for.

By the time they began approaching it was afternoon, and as the days were still short, the long dusk had begun. He smiled when, just as he'd planned - if perhaps an hour later - the beautiful lights of the northern skies began to appear in wispy, smoky waves.

He switched Toothless into a glide, relaxing their pace as he felt a smile spread on his face. This was the romantic first date they never got to have, where he took her somewhere awesome on dragon-back and she was relaxed about it, rather than tense and rallying people to get off Dragon Island. He sighed happily, the rest of the day panning out in front of him. He'd get punched, hopefully not too badly, about the fake threat. Then they'd find a glade in full view of the West, sit down and enjoy their food as they watched the sunset. He'd give her that foot massage until she was relaxed as a sleepy dragon, break out the flute2, which he knew would be a surprise as they'd already drifted apart when Gobber had begun teaching him, and she'd make fun of him for it for as long as she liked - hopefully while wearing his gift - and _then _before it got too cold, they'd bundle everything up and head back, another romantic flight, to come home late at night and snuggle under the furs, freezing, together in their bed and warming each other up.

He barely got to finish this particular bout of wishful thinking.

'Arvindayle's fire!' Astrid gasped, and then she growled something that sounded savagely angry, frighteningly similar to 'revenge', 'honour' and 'dragon meat mince'.

'What?' he asked, feeling like someone hit him upside the head.

'Toothless!' Astrid hissed, suddenly hauling Brisinga off her back and letting her left fingers dig into his side. 'The enemy dragon is close, and it's a monstrously tricky one. Keep an eye out!'

'What?' Hiccup asked again, even as he suddenly yelped because Toothless took her seriously and dropped out of his glide, making him scramble to adjust the pedal and avoid an unplanned daredevil maneouver.

'The flightmare will be _mine_ this time!' she laughed, raising Brisinga high. 'They tied me up in Stoick's hut when I was fifteen, but not this year! It comes early, and I'm not going to miss this time!'

What... What?

'Toothless! We have to protect Hiccup! This one is nasty!' Instantly, Toothless kicked his rigging in the emergency gear, and suddenly he was in control of his flight. Hiccup squeaked as they began racing at incredibly high speeds, Astrid almost standing behind him as she waved her axe around like a mad woman. During a particularly harsh turn, they almost toppled off balance due to the heavy saddle bag, and Astrid leaned down and unlatched it.

'What are you doing!' he yelled in dismay as he tried to grab their falling food and blanket and everything else. It sank down towards the sea like a rock. There went the pretty choker and the picnic and … his flute too. He'd bought that one from a road trader in a place tucked between two mountains. It was engraved and beautiful, and now it was … yup, wet and gone.

They flew around in aimless circles for the next hour, the sunset come and gone together with his patience as he tried to get a word in edge-wise the whole time, being either ignored or interrupted. Finally, he declared the day over as the first stars appeared overhead, and with no chance of ever living a single romantic moment with Astrid this year. Again.

'We're going home,' he growled, reaching down halfway off the saddle to crank the gear back to his control, and then he jammed it. Sensing his anger, Toothless gave a questioning warble, but Hiccup merely turned him towards Berk and urged him on. Toothless wisely did not argue.

Astrid was less wise.

'But-'

'We're. Going. Home!' he barked, and something in his tone seemed to register that he was annoyed with _her_, so she fell quiet for the rest of the trip. He threw himself off Toothless as soon as they landed behind his house, but Astrid was not far behind.

'What was that about!' she yelled, obviously having worked up quite a temper from having been yelled at.

It was the last straw. Hiccup whirled on her, ignoring her waving axe, and snapped.

'What was that about? That was about the bag you decided to drop into the ocean without asking a single word on whether or not I was OK with it!' he growled.

'It was throwing us off balance!' he snapped right back. 'What did you have in there, stones? I can sew you more clothes and blankets, Hiccup, but we lost that dragon because-'

'There was never any dragon!' he roared, throwing his hands up.

'What? But you said-'

'Yes! I lied! It was supposed to be a _surprise_; a picnic, a sunset and some time just for you and me!' he flailed his arms out angrily. 'But of course, that was a stupid plan! _Happy Violentine's Day, _Astrid!'

He whirled around again, storming into his house and ignoring the door banging off the wall as he walked in.

'Not go well, I take it?' Stoick asked sympathetically.

'Good_night_,' he barked back, stamping his feet all the way up and feeling childish for it, but also feeling better, so he just went with it. He took great satisfaction in throwing everything he was wearing across the room - even if he knew he'd be cursing himself tomorrow - and then wore his night clothes and got under the furs, his back decidedly towards the other side.

He heard her tentative steps come into the room and he ignored them sulkily. Cloth and fur rustled in the silence of the hall, then the bed moved as she got in beside him, but he kept the grumpy up, making sure to stay stiff as a plank in bed, even when one of her fingers came to caress his shoulders tentatively.

'...It was Violentine's day?' she asked, a little meekly. She'd never usually sounded meek, especially not like that, so- no. No, he was going to be angry. He was going to be angry and damnit he wasn't going to give up the angry. 'I … sort of trained myself not to notice, you know.'

'Why?' his mouth asked. _Damnit_!

'Well, the first one after you left was the worst,' she said in a low-voiced mutter. 'I wasn't yet … you know, spoken for.' There was a small pause. Obviously she was hoping he'd turn round. He had to go stiffer than a plank to keep his body from doing just that. She sighed and went on. 'I got lots of gifts. Flowers, songs … mostly from Snotlout. It was a nightmare.'

'Oh great, so now being courted is a nightmare,' he ground out mulishly. 'Good to know. I'll stop right away.'

'Come on..' she said, sadly. Oh, heck, she was bringing out the big guns. 'Don't be like that, you know I really like your gifts. And at least your poetry isn't about the taste of sour yak milk and grass on my knees.'

His body literally did a tilt as it tried to turn to look at her incredulously but he refused to let it. He growled at the far wall. 'Remind me to break Snotlout's nose tomorrow.'

'Ok,' she replied sheepishly. Shit, she was using the _sheepish_. Her finger came up to caress his stiff shoulder again, but … he just was too angry. 'Please Hiccup, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want to go to sleep at odds.'

He winced and began fiddling with the sheet in front of him.

'I'm so sorry,' she said again. 'You must have taken time to organize, and found someone to care of Ætta and I didn't even notice. And then you must have gotten me a gift, and … oh! Oh no! You must have been in the forge for hours, working on my gift, and I just threw it into the ocean!'

_Now_ she sounded upset; really, really upset. He knew she loved his metal work, and appreciated his craftsmanship in a way he'd come to adore. He couldn't let her think that. With a final sigh, he turned around to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. Her hand sneaked to wiggle her fingers into his tentatively, and he just let her.

'It was only a choker, with a blue ribbon at the back. It wasn't armour or a weapon, so don't worry, I didn't spend hours on it … It was meant to go with your blue dress, but really the gift was the picnic. And a foot-rub. And the sunset and … well, all that nice time.' She wiggled closer and put her head against his shoulder. 'I'm still upset,' he said still a little grumpily. But then he went on, 'more that it didn't work out, than at you. I was just looking forward to it, I guess. Lots of- … lots of dreaming, you know.'

She didn't apologise again, but she curled up around his side and kissed his shoulder. The last bit of upset was leaking out, because really it was disappointment, and attention from her helped a little.

'I hate the flightmare,' Astrid murmured. 'It ruined my family name, and it took Uncle Fin away from us. He was too ashamed … I thought the lights meant ...'

'No, those are different lights. Up farther North, they're there all the time. I'd forgotten about the flightmare and … that. Sorry,' he muttered with a wince.

'I'm the one who over-reacted,' she replied sadly, and there was a note of melancholy that both soothed him and made him feel guilty. He wanted and at once didn't want her to be sad for their missed date today.

'So,' he went on after a while, wiggling closer to her to let her know he'd at least grown less upset. 'One bad Violentine's day can't have made you hate it so much that you tried to forget it existed. What else is there to this story?'

'Well … by the next year, I was engaged to you, so … it was still mostly Snotlout,' she sighed. He felt his body make an odd twitch at how strange it sounded to hear her speaking of being engaged to him at fifteen, when he was a world away, dreaming about her while he thought the stars were closer to his reach. 'This one time he roped Tuffnut into playing the fiddle and sat under my window singing horridly badly … Your dad got so mad at him he went out there personally to box his ear in. He was complaining about it ringing for a week. Tuffnut got the fiddle bashed over his head.' She chuckled. 'At least it was entertaining to watch your dad give them the smack-down, but the next year he tried to capture a dragon to impress me, and ended up bringing it into the village. It almost wrecked our hall. I could go on...'

'It _does_ sound tedious,' Hiccup conceded. The he prodded her, because she was biting her bottom lip as she always did when she was concentrating on something. 'What else?'

'Nosy,' she replied, slightly annoyed.

'Tell me, and you're forgiven,' he offered. She gave him a pout.

'Fine … I hated it because I was envious,' she admitted, looking away almost shyly. 'I hadn't thought long-term when I offered up my idea of the shield and … as time passed, I started missing you. And wondering.' She blushed. 'And … maybe hoping and wishing. There, I said it.'

She boxed his shoulder lightly then hid her face against it. So he turned around to face her and hugged her, letting her hide her face under his chin instead.

'Bit like me, then. Some of your jeweller _may_ be late Violentine presents, if we're honest. Very, very late.'

'...which ones?'

'The blue one with green stones … and the red one, with the matching earrings.' He scratched his cheek, which was blushing. 'And the rings with moonstones…'

She sniggered a little, poking his chest. Her promise ring glimmered in the dim light. 'Got bold there, Haddock.'

'Dreams are always bold.' They went quiet for a moment, and Astrid lay motionless in his arms, until she wiggled out of them.

'Turn.'

'What?'

'Turn over,' she insisted. 'And take your night clothes off.'

'Astrid, I'm in my nightclothes. I'm _only_ wearing those3!' He tried not to yelp, he really did. It didn't go so well for him. Astrid blushed for a moment, but then set her jaw stubbornly, and he knew he'd either take the shirt off, or his ship mast would be standing straight from her wrestling it off him. He gave in, blushing to the roots of his hair. All his hair.

'Lay on your belly,' she ordered, encouraging him to role with her fingertips, and he did so, disconcerted. He felt the bed wobble as she threw herself out, but she was back in a moment, and something cold dropped on his back, making him hiss. 'It will warm in a minute, I promise...'

Her fingers began digging into his back, going up and down and rotating on his neck muscles. Some spots were painful, but whatever she had put on him had warmed considerably, leaving a pleasant, toasty warmth wherever she touched. He was boneless within moments as she put more vigour into it, using her entire forearm and straddling his legs to leave tingles and lip-biting sensations on his lower back.

He was completely relaxed and drifting off by the time she stopped, flopping onto the bed beside him. He made an effort and opened his eyes to find her smiling and panting slightly.

'That was _really_ good,' he sighed. She smiled wider, leaning in to kiss his nose.

'No one's ever massaged you stupid, I take it,' she whispered triumphantly. 'Good. I'll do this again.'

'If this is how you win arguments,' he muttered into the pillow, aware that his voice was slurring as his eyes dropped. 'I may start arguments more often ...'

'Cheeky,' he distantly heard her snigger, a finger poking his shoulder barely registering in his thoughts. Her hand moved up to rest on the centre of his back, and then he heard her voice hum in his ears. He wasn't quite sure _what_ she said, but the sounds was sweet and comforting.

'`Ppy Violentine's day to you too, Asta,' he muttered before he dropped off to sleep.

=0=

Astrid watched him drift off, pleasingly flushed, and shining from the whale oil she'd used to make the massage more pleasant. She wasn't exactly sure who the massage had been a treat for, but the smile on his face meant that it had worked, either way.

'That was _really_ good,' he said breathily, and his eyelids looked made of lead for all the effort he was making to keep them up. Being upset with her was energy draining for him. Who knew?

'No one's ever massaged you stupid, I take it,' she whispered triumphantly, so very, utterly _pleased_ that she was the first one. Take that, all the women of Midgard; five years away, and she still got to do this first. 'Good. I'll do this again.'

There was a pause, and for a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep. His response was barely intelligible, when it came. 'If this is how you win arguments, I may start arguments more often ...'

She could see him do it, too. Pretend-fighting with that hopeful gleam in his eyes. He already did it for kisses sometimes. 'Cheeky,' she teased, creeping closer to him and drawing the covers around them. The linens would stain, but what did she care? That dopey smile was worth anything. She let her hand drift up and down his back as she half-rose to kiss his cheek, and then his earlobe. Resting her cheekbone against his, she murmured. 'I really think I may love you.'

His heartbeat didn't jump under her hand, and she was almost glad of it. He looked content and warm … and she was so afraid of saying it. She was so scared of being wrong, and disappointing him.

'`Ppy Violentine's day to you too, Asta,' he replied, and her own heart jolted. She smiled against him, curling up further to his warm chest.

'Yes,' she sighed, 'happy Violentine's day.'

=0=

1 From what I've found, there is actually no consistent historical evidence that a holiday called Valisblott as an association with Valentine's day prior to the existence of the latter. However, I thought some readers may be familiar with it and my research is obviously not conclusive, so I gave it a small mention - mostly to pull its leg. Violentine's day, on the other hand, is entirely my invention, and it sounds just too Berk not to be used. Because some people have chocolates and Valentine's cards. Berk has _Violence._

2 Hiccup also would be required to know how to play an instrument as a noble man (relatively speaking), and I gave him the flute because his long smart fingers are well built for it. Amongst other things.

3 Hiccup isn't being sexy here. I looked around, and there isn't much evidence that Vikings wore underwear before the 10th Century. As I'm placing this waaay before in my head (based on the clothing in the first film; a clue is the battle close to Constantinople Hiccup describes in Holt, which really happened) Hiccup wouldn't have had underwear to wear at all. Hurtwick dot org even says that poor people mostly slept naked, while higher ranked members of society would have better means - and thus sleeping clothes.

=0=

**This idea hit me upside the head, and I couldn't shirk it. It was silly, and funny, and I enjoyed writing it, not to mention, the image of a pouting Hiccup stomping up to his room couldn't be passed up.**

**Also, it always struck me as funny that Astrid's face went all 'ooooh, pretty!' when she saw the northern lights during their romantic flight, because that should have, according to the series, made her mad as a hungry gronkle because it reminded her for family honour and why she hated dragons and yadda yadda. So yes, I am pulling the leg of the romantic flight with this fic. Sorry, my humour is pawky.  
**

**I am also very, very close to submitting a thesis I have been working on for 3 years. And then will begin working on PhD proposals. Maybe. Gods I'm wired. But I will also be absent for a while; just a headsup. Wish me luck!  
**

=0=


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